


In Your Head

by stingrayy



Category: The Witcher, The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff, Platonic Cuddling, Platonic Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-20
Updated: 2020-01-20
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:00:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22328233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stingrayy/pseuds/stingrayy
Summary: Jaskier was the best bard he could ever ask for.
Relationships: Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier, Geralt x Jaskier, geraskier - Relationship
Comments: 5
Kudos: 291





	In Your Head

**Author's Note:**

> Hello this is my second fic today and I can't stop these two are too much. Still don't know what I'm doing.
> 
> Follow me on Tumblr! @sucrose-senpai

“Be nice to Roach,” Geralt warned before heading into the forest. Jaskier sat close to the fire, adding bundles of sticks as it burned. 

“How could I be anything else?” the bard hummed with a smile. Geralt said nothing as he continued into the trees. 

“Come back soon!” Jaskier called behind him. 

He passed the time talking to Roach about nothing in particular and making sure the fire stayed lit. 

“You know, when I first met him,” Jaskier mused, squeezing the water from his hair after bathing in the river, “He wasn’t scary like everyone had made him seem. Sitting in that tavern by himself, he just seemed… human.” Roach huffed. 

“And when he saved me from those elves, I knew he was different. He could have let them kill me and gotten away himself, but he made sure I got out of there alive.” Jaskier sat curled near the fire, relishing in its warmth. 

“I’m glad he’s kept me around this long,” Jaskier mumbled, mostly to himself. 

_ Snap _ . 

Jaskier heard the noise echo in the woods before him. The cadence of the footsteps shuffling through the leaves was certainly not Geralt, even if he was stumbling to drag a large kill behind him. Jaskier stood, heart pounding in his chest, and reached into one of Roach’s saddle bags. He gripped the handle of the dagger tightly, never taking his eyes from where he heard the noise. 

He paused and tried to listen, but his pulse thundered in his ears. Suddenly, a creature leaped from the trees in front of him. It looked like a dog, but twice as huge, with teeth as long as his dagger. Jaskier dodged clumsily to the side and raised his weapon, bracing as the monster charged at him. It barreled into him, sending him flying into the trees behind him. He rolled away just before the creatures jaws snapped on his throat and slashed his dagger down its side. The creature barked in pain and threw itself at Jaskier again. He kicked the creature in the chest and stabbed it in its side as it fell to the ground, but it twisted and writhed just enough to nick Jaskier’s leg. He jumped away with a curse, hand curled tightly around the dagger. The creature got to its feet and lunged, and Jaskier kicked it down again. He straddled the creature, burying his dagger into the creature over and over again, wincing as it scraped his claws at him to try and escape. 

Eventually, the creature laid still. Jaskier stood, panting and bloody as he stared at the creature. His pulse still pounded in his ears, and he jumped when he heard a  _ thud _ behind him. He whipped around, dagger raised, to find Geralt, worry etched into his features, a dead stag ignored behind him. 

“Fuck,” Geralt said, stepping toward the bard, who lowered his weapon.

“Don’t worry,” Jaskier assured, putting on his best smile for the witcher, “I had it under control. I made sure that beast was--”

“You’re hurt,” Geralt interrupted, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“It’s nothing, really. Just a scratch!” he swallowed thickly to try and hide the waver in his voice, “Nothing compared to what I did to that creature.” His chuckles subsided as Geralt began checking him over. He had scratches over his forearms and a bite on his right leg. 

“Sit down,” Geralt demanded, reaching into his bag for a potion.

“Geralt, I promise you I’m fine--” 

“Drink,” he pressed a bottle to his lips and tilted, making sure he swallowed the medicine. Jaskier’s breath hitched in his chest and he gnawed on his lip as Geralt rolled up his sleeves and began tending to his wounds. He squeezed his eyes shut at the sight of his blood, clenching his teeth in pain as the adrenaline wore off. 

When he was done, Geralt kneeled in front of Jaskier, yellow eyes searching his. Geralt felt his chest tighten and his heart leap into his throat. Jaskier’s eyes were red and wet with tears, and he could smell the anxiety on him. Jaskier hung his head and sobbed, ashamed for crying in front of Geralt. He was terrified at the sight of his own blood, and the thought that he very well could have died just then sent him into a panic. Geralt felt guilt wash over his body and settle in the pit of his stomach. How could he let this happen? Here Jaskier sat, crying and bloody and  _ hurt _ , because of him. He was so sure he’d be safe here, he was so sure he’d only be gone for a moment, but he was wrong. 

He wrapped his arms around Jaskier, wanting the fear on his scent to go away. He wanted him to smell like roses and spice and happiness like he always did. He never wanted him to be scared for his life again, but he  _ was _ and it was his fault. 

When Jaskier caught his breath, Geralt pulled away, hands resting on the bard’s sides. 

“I never should have left you alone,” he said, staring into Jaskier’s blue eyes, “I’m sorry.”Jaskier smiled weakly, gently wiping the tears from his face. 

“It’s n-not your f-fault,” he hiccuped, “th-thank you.” Geralt bit his lip as he gently coaxed the bard next to the fire. He moved to prepare the stag, being sure to keep Jaskier in full view as he gutted and skinned it. He cut the creature into pieces and carried it with him as he sat next to Jaskier, who reached to help him cook. 

“Leave it,” Geralt said, waving his hand away, “I’ll handle it. You’ve done enough.” Jaskier smiled a little and scooted closer towards the warmth of the fire.

“I should get hurt more often,” Jaskier joked, “You’re never this kind to me.” Geralt hummed, frowning at his comment. Jaskier nudged him in the side. 

“I’m just kidding,” he reassured, noticing the witcher’s discomfort. He placed a hand on Geralt’s back with a soft sigh and looked at him intently. 

“Don’t blame yourself,” the bard said, “It wasn’t your fault.”

“If I hadn’t have left you alone, this wouldn’t have happened,” Geralt blurted. Jaskier sighed again.

“If you hadn’t left me alone, we wouldn’t have had dinner. God knows I don’t make a good hunting companion,” he said. Geralt turned away, staring at the fire.

“Get out of your head,” Jaskier patted him gently on the back, “You can’t control everything. And you certainly need to stop blaming yourself for things you can’t control.” Geralt only grunted in response. 

As they ate their kill, Geralt was silent despite the bard’s lighthearted commentary. How could he be so happy? He’d almost gotten him killed and he still eats and jokes with him. Why didn’t he curse and scream at him when he’d come back?  _ Why wasn’t he mad? _

“Talk to me, Geralt,” Jaskier demanded, pulling the witcher from his thoughts, “I won’t let you get in your head about this.” Geralt sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face. 

“I was careless and it almost cost you your life. I’m sorry,” Geralt said, his eyes never leaving the flames in front of him. Jaskier scooted closer to him. Geralt looked at him, his chest swirling with emotions. 

“If you were any sorry at all, you’d stop this insufferable brooding,” Jaskier said bluntly, not letting Geralt look away, “you want me to be mad at you so you have a reason to scare me away. I’m not mad. You did everything you could have, and I’m so fucking thankful for that. I’m thankful you’ve even let me stay with you this long. No song I could ever write would repay you for all you’ve done for me, Geralt.” 

The whirlwind in Geralt’s chest calmed a little at his words. Geralt sighed and looked away, not knowing what to say. 

“You’re the best bard I could ask for,” he mumbled eventually, grinning slightly. Jaskier scoffed and smiled. 

“And you’re the most emotionally constipated monster hunter I’ve met,” Jaskier nudged him. 

“I’m the  _ only _ monster hunter you’ve met,” Geralt reminded. 

“And if all witchers are as unbearable as you, I hope I never meet another one,” Jaskier said. Geralt smiled, looking into the fire again. 

“Thank you,” he said, “for everything.” 

That night, as they settled into their cramped shelter, Geralt didn’t fight the way that Jaskier curled closer to him in his sleep. He didn’t fight his urge to stare and watch the gentle rise and fall of his chest. He didn’t fight when the bard laid an arm across his chest and snuggled closer to him. Instead, he wrapped his arm around him and rubbed along his back, relishing in his warmth and his scent. 

Despite all the times he messed up, all the times he could have done better, all the times Jaskier’s gotten hurt because of him, he still followed him. He still cared for him. He still made sure he could have a warm fire and fresh clothes at the end of the day. He still tended to his wounds when he was hurt and washed his hair when he needed him to. He still sang about him from the bottom of his heart.

Despite all the walls he put up around his heart, Jaskier still found ways to peel them back. Jaskier was the best bard he could ever ask for. 


End file.
